


friend, please

by fuhllmetal



Category: Fire Emblem: Kakusei | Fire Emblem: Awakening
Genre: Developing Relationship, M/M, Pre-Slash, set up like c-s supports, there might be other characters in here but i don't really plan on it
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-08-09
Updated: 2015-08-09
Packaged: 2018-04-13 18:17:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,006
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4532322
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fuhllmetal/pseuds/fuhllmetal
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>frederick knows how to act around chrom. chrom doesn't like that, though, and decides to throw a wrench into the operation. neither are sure how they want it to end up.<br/>(or, if frederick and chrom could get s support)</p>
            </blockquote>





	friend, please

**Author's Note:**

  * For [squad but mostly izzy](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=squad+but+mostly+izzy).



> there's a depressingly small amount of fred/chrom here on ao3 so i thought i might add to the pile
> 
> for now i only have 4 chapters planned to be like a different version of their supports if they could get married (so a more natural progression for their relationship with that end in mind), but i might consider adding an epilogue depending on demand
> 
> unbeta'd for now so if you spot any mistakes, please let me know, thanks!

            Battle flared up all over the region as of late, whether it be unruly brigands or Risen or otherwise. Battle was the single spark erupting from dry wood on a hot day, expanding into a forest fire that ravaged the environment until it was scarcely recognizable. The blaze took many with it, but somehow, through the raging inferno, others survived and became stronger. The battle-worn Shepherds survived every fire they thrust themselves into, seeming to dance across hot coals like it was the single thing keeping them going.

            That was how the Ylissean public saw them, anyway. A crew of young, strong soldiers who never tired, doing their best to purge the land of danger, using violence to keep the peace. Purging the Risen wasn’t such a luxurious job as the tales made it sound, however.

            The ghastly smell that wafted off of the presumed undead, their glowing red eyes…a man unhardened by battle would turn tail if confronted with such an experience. Most among the Shepherds’ ranks were lucky enough, if you could call it that, to have practiced, so to speak, on flesh and blood soldiers before taking on the Risen, but not all. That was what made them Shepherds, Frederick mused. They had the gumption to stare the Risen in the face and jab a weapon into said face instead of running for the hills in fear.

 

            The fire in front of him was weakly coughing up embers, hacking sparks into the sky as it died. He, too, would have to turn in eventually and give the watch position over to someone else.

            Frederick was bothered by this thought. An inkling in the back of his mind nagged whenever responsibility had to be turned over to another, his watchdog instincts insisting he be the one to protect the company. He’d been called a control freak on more than one occasion whenever he made this feeling clear, either through a strict refusal to give up his post or other means, but it always ended the same nonetheless: whoever stood to challenge Frederick for night watch that particular night would eventually stand down and let him have the job.

            This night, he presumed, would be no different. Once the fire died completely, the person set to take over for him tonight would come to relieve him, bicker for a few minutes, but then retreat back to their cot not long after starting the quarrel. Hopefully they would not put up much of a fight, as Frederick had earned a reputation for his insistence by now.

 

            Who was due for night watch tonight? He would never tell anyone outside of his own person, but the affects of the long battle during the day and the long celebration afterwards that lasted into the night was taking its toll on his mind, and fatigue creeped up upon him. Yet for the life of him he could not recall who was supposed to relieve him. Frederick was supposed to be on top of the schedule, too, as he was the one who crafted it, so this was something of a disgrace on his own honor to maintain the camp.

            As he racked his brain, the fire continued to lower and lower, becoming duller and smaller faster and faster. Soon, the embers no longer leaped at all, and Frederick’s shadow mingled with the darkness around him entirely. His eyes drooped for the briefest of seconds, but he quickly jerked himself awake. This was the worst time to be anything less than vigilant.

            A branch cracked in the distance. Frederick jumped with a start, eyes scanning the dark field before him, roving back and forth as if he was watching an invisible sports match in the darkness. For a moment he hallucinated red eyes staring him down, but it was only the last of the fire encroaching upon his line of sight.

 

            “Must have been an animal. Foolish for coming so close.” Frederick muttered to himself, placing the lance he’d reached for instinctively back in the holster of his armor. He sighed, looked at his feet for a moment as he regained his composure, and lifted his head back up to resume his watch.

            “So foolish that another step closer and that animal would have been skewered like a kebob.” A baritone voice chuckled from the darkness. Frederick jumped again after only just getting a controlled hand on his heart rate once more. His eyes darted around but were unable to make out anything in the pitch of night. That is, they naught saw anything until the figure that spoke moved closer to him, the only visible part of them a single silver shoulder piece glinting in the nearly deceased firelight.

            “Oh, milord, you frightened – I mean, you gave me a shock with your sudden appearance.” Frederick backtracked midsentence, realizing his misstep. Milord did not need to hear that. “Pray, how long have you been there…?”

            Chrom laughed again and stepped closer to the wilting remains of the fire, resting an arm on the hilt of Falchion attached to his hip. “Not long. I only just now left my tent and walked over here, but I decided to wait for a moment and watch you. The branch cracked after I already arrived.”

 

            The two were silent for a moment, taking in the gentle night sounds of the forest surrounding the field, enjoying the presence of each other. A sort of satisfied grin made its way onto Chrom’s face.

            “You were frightened?” He asked, his voice low, the smirk firmly planted upon his lips. Frederick turned to his lord, a dissatisfied scowl threatening to overtake his features.

            “Certainly not, milord. I was simply wary, as always, and the sound triggered a knee-jerk reaction in me. Nothing more.” Frederick insisted, not looking Chrom in the eye and instead electing to stare directly into the smoldering ashes of the dead bonfire.

            “Alright then. Whatever you say, Frederick.” Chrom turned away from his knight to also stare at the ashes, the only remaining light being the moon and stars above.

 

            They were silent for another stretch. Frederick only became more and more uneasy with every passing second, unsure of why his lord was out here at this hour. Was he the one set to relieve Frederick for watch duty tonight? It would take much more convincing to sway him as opposed to another member of their company, especially with Chrom’s status as his lord. Even though Frederick noted Chrom’s reluctance to use his status to lord over Frederick as much as he could, he still held that potential.

            The irony of the situation was that Chrom was the one Frederick most wanted to dissuade from night watch.

            Lissa, of course, was also high on that list. She would not put up a fight getting out of night watch, however, and Frederick found it hard to believe that Chrom would allow her to be on the schedule in the first place. Lady Maribelle was also decently high on that same list, but her pouting and whining about responsibilities like night watch made Frederick, in a cynical sort of way, almost want to give her the duty. He never did, let the record show, give into that small, cruel wish, but it was still there.

            The rest of the company could fend for themselves on night watch, as they all either insisted or proved themselves capable of the task. Some, like Ricken, desperate to be seen as capable, would beg and plead for a night watch opportunity. Poor lad had the misfortune of getting assigned to Frederick’s night a few weeks back, effectively writing him off until his name came out of the selection bag again, a cruel twist of fate entirely unplanned.

 

            Chrom, however, was a different story altogether. If Sumia and Sully hadn’t insisted that a democratic system be put in place for chores and the like, Chrom and Frederick would butt heads over who took watch every single night. Chrom would insist that as leader of the Shepherds, it was his duty to watch over them all hours of the day and night. Frederick would retort with his position as knight watching over Chrom and Lissa, claiming the job naturally fell to him.

            Eventually everyone else, particularly Sully and Sumia, got tired of hearing the same old argument every single night and proposed a plan to end the quarrel once and for all. A schedule would be made and followed to the letter.

            Frederick despised breaking rules, especially ones made with his own eventual support, but his protective instincts were just too powerful at times. Now he was being challenged, as it was his and Chrom’s night to share the watch.

            How could he have forgotten this would be happening tonight? How careless of him.

 

            “I apologize for my impudence milord, but I cannot let you perform night watch tonight.”

            “I’m going to do watch duty tonight Frederick, no matter what you say.”

 

            As soon as the words started leaving Frederick’s mouth, Chrom retorted without giving a single one of his words a second thought. Frederick clamped his mouth shut in shock, still fixing his eyes on the fire pit.

            “I appreciate you doting on me, but at the same time I am a grown man. I’m a grown man who happens to be the leader of a platoon, and I can most certainly take care of myself.” Chrom’s easy smile never left his face, but his words felt like a slap to the face to Frederick. Of course he knew all of this! Frederick simply wanted to let Chrom have the most sleep he possibly could so he could lead at full efficiency.

            That, and the thought of the camp just so happening to be ambushed the one night that Chrom relieved his knight of duty left a horrible anxious feeling in the pit of Frederick’s stomach. He could not and would not be responsible for such a tragedy.

 

            “You need your rest, milord. I only desire what is best for you.” Frederick muttered, staring at his hands and feeling immensely rude for it. He wanted to lift his gaze up and look his liege directly in the eye when he spoke, but his eyes would not lift. “I do not intend to make you feel like a child.”

            “I know you don’t, Frederick.” Chrom replied, the smile still evident in the tone of his voice even if Frederick could not see it. “I appreciate you caring about me more than I let on. The last part is null and void now, I suppose, but…” He trailed off just as Frederick mustered the strength to look up, his brow furrowed.

            The knight opened his mouth to say something, but the words fled from his brain instantaneously. He closed his mouth as soon as he realized he didn’t have anything to say, pursing his lips ever so slightly.

 

            Chrom had a look on his face unbefitting of a ruler conversing with his knight. His eyebrows had slackened from the hard, careful lines they usually made across his face. His lips had also softened from the slight frown he had about camp, softened even further from the smug grin he had moments before. The corners pointed downwards, but not mournfully. Considering his ever-so-slightly hunched shoulders and generally bad posture as he sat down next to Frederick on the log, he was the most relaxed Frederick had seen the prince in what felt like years.

            It didn’t only feel like years – it had been years. Emmeryn’s death had stuck a sharp pole through Chrom’s spine that never moved from its place, keeping him stiff and in control. The pole was lax now, and Chrom finally could sit like a commoner.

            Conflicting feelings shot through Frederick one after another. On one hand, he was bothered by his liege’s casual manner. Sitting like one of lower status simply did not befit him.

            On the other hand, Frederick was put at ease seeing Chrom finally so relaxed after years of heartbreak and pure adrenaline keeping him from relenting to said heartbreak. Sure, they in the Shepherds had their good times, but they were at war. War was a fog that sat over the camp night and day, reminding them no matter how lively they felt, at any moment one of them could be lost forever.

 

            “-erick? Frederick?” Chrom’s concerned voice broke through Frederick’s glass-like reverie. The shattered pieces still remained in the knight’s mind, but now that his train of thought had been lost, retrieving them would be a serious pain.

            “Yes, milord? Apologies. I lost myself for a moment.”

            Chrom sighed, his forearms resting on his kneecaps. Normally his arm would rest upon Falchion’s hilt that rested by his side, but this was not regal, in control Captain Chrom. This was simply Chrom, the young man still in his twenties charged with running a country while running a platoon.

            “Nothing. I just was curious what got you so absorbed in thought.” Chrom’s easy smile returned, but it wasn’t quite the same as when he first arrived at Frederick’s campfire. First, it was harder to see, even after eyes having adjusted to the dark. Something else was more…subdued about it.

 

            “Only milord’s attitude. Beg pardon if this is intruding, but milord seems…troubled.” Frederick replied, his toes fidgeting with nervous energy inside his boots. Hopefully he wasn’t crossing any lines.

            “Of course you’re not intruding, Frederick!” Chrom immediately responded, his tone a mix of indignant and mirthful. “I was just concerned about you. You seemed to have left this plane of existence for a moment with this grim expression on your face. I’m glad to hear your thoughts did not turn too gruesome, if I take your word at face value, of course.” His tone was all mirth now, but Frederick was still anxious.

            He wasn’t sure why. It wasn’t as if Chrom was acting strangely. It was his duty to care for his subordinates after all. Frederick was simply another soldier that needed a morale boost.

 

            “And one more thing. While I can understand you doing so in a more public setting, keeping up appearances and whatnot, you don’t have to use the formalities when we’re in private, so drop the milord this, my liege that, would you?” Chrom grinned at Frederick, a laid back hand on his hip.

            “Milo-“ Frederick started, but Chrom scowled. The knight shook his head. “Apologies. I do not know how else to refer to you now that those two options have been…removed from my vocabulary.”

            “Just Chrom is fine. Really, Frederick, it’s not good for you to focus so heavily on my approval. I simply wish to be your,” Chrom paused and flicked his eyes to the ground for a split second. Strange. “Friend. I think we should be friends outside of knight and prince or comrades on the battlefield. We certainly have the history.” Chrom chuckled nervously.

            Nervously? Couldn’t be.

 

            “I have to protest, ah…” Frederick stopped mid sentence. He refused to refer to the…man in front of him with his first name. How unbecoming! If Maribelle caught wind of him referring to the prince with his given name, why, the whole capital would know within a matter of days. The scandal that would arise would be mountainous. He would never live it down for the rest of his days. He would be sent back to the countryside, stripped of his title and honor, to live out the rest of his days as a poor farmer. Gods, no, he could not leave Chrom in someone else’s hands like that.

            “It’s really not that hard, Frederick. Do you really dislike my name that much?” Chrom laughed again. This time there was a fake quality to the chuckle, though, that left Frederick inexplicably uncomfortable.

            “Of course not, Ch-Chrom! That’s preposterous! It’s a fine name, befitting a fine prince.” The name felt strange on his tongue with underuse. Frederick felt his cheeks heat with shame at uttering it in the first place, but also for evidently offending his Lord so. Locking eyes with Chrom again in his fluster, the knight could have sworn he saw a hint of victory in the other man’s eyes.

 

            They were quiet again for a few more beats. This time Frederick didn’t feel a reverie come, only seeing the fringe of the dark forest surrounding their camp. Even that was nothing but a faint blur on the rest of the black landscape, as the fire went out quite a while ago. Suddenly Chrom broke the silence again.

            “Don’t tell me you got caught up in a panicked fantasy over just using my given name.” He whispered. Frederick couldn’t read his tone. Was he sad? Angry? Joking? The vague not-a-question, not-a-statement utterance hung in the air, thick like the muggy summer night.

            “I cannot say anything in response to that, then.” The words found form in his mouth before Frederick even conjured them in his mind. He wanted so badly to clap a hand over his mouth at that moment, but alas, it was too late. The damage was done.

            Frederick searched Chrom’s profile for answers but found none. He seemed…contemplative. That only made the knight more nervous. His blood pressure spiked just as Chrom’s lips suddenly twitched, but relaxed as they turned into a hint of a smile.

            “You big softie. Don’t worry about me so much. That’s my job.” He whispered, getting to his feet. “To worry about you, I mean.” The second sentence was even quieter than the first, so much so that Frederick believed he imagined it for a moment.

 

            Before Frederick could retort with a slew of choice words, Chrom was gone, heading back off to his tent in the pitch darkness. He waved his hand, not stopping or turning around, as if to wave Frederick off. As if he knew exactly what he was doing.

            The heat returned to Frederick’s face. He would never know what he was doing.


End file.
